Fire and Rain
by DreamOfStars
Summary: They found each other in the sewers, forming a bond of brotherhood they promised would be unbreakable. They grew up together, looked out for each other, took turns to share a loaf of bread or piece of fruit. Years later, all that had changed. Three-shot. Javert/Valjean FRIENDSHIP.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Forgive me if the ages and histories of both characters are a little AU - I tried to keep it as realistic as possible. **

**DISCLAIMER: Not mine.**

FIRE AND RAIN:

The boy hidden in the rubbish was about five years old; his vivid blue eyes the only thing visible under the dirt. In a sense, he reminded Jean of the exotic gypsies he had seen passing through Paris some time ago. Jean Valjean touch the loaf of bread he had nicked from a vendor.

His sister and her husband had a lot of children. They needed this.

He needed this.

The light in the boy's eyes was dim and Jean knelt down next to him.

"What's your name?"

The boy shrugged back, his eyes wide and Jean shook his head.

"I'm not gonna hurt you! Here, look…"

He broke off a piece of bread impulsively – holding it out to the boy as one would to a dog.

"Take this."

The entire piece of bread disappeared in one big mouthful – the boy seemed to swallow without chewing.

"What is your name?"

"I haven't got one now, have I?"

Jean moved to sit next to the boy, looking at him confusedly.

"How old are you?"

"Dunno."

"Where are you from?"

"Been around here since I can remember."

Jean's heart ached at this. This boy could not be older than six, living in the sewers without a name. Without anyone, no doubt thrown out by his parents the second he could manage to think for himself.

"Do you take care of yourself?"

There was a tired wisdom in the boy's voice when he answered, way beyond his years.

"Well, if I don't who will?"

Though he was merely twelve years old, Jean already understood the utter unfairness of the city.

"No one ought to be alone. I'll take care of you."

Blue eyes shot up, shocked and Jean shrugged.

"I can't really do much. But I can make sure you at least eat now and then. I can be your friend."

The boy moved closer to Jean, unfamiliar with human contact.

"I've never had a friend."

Jean pursed his lips determinedly.

"Now you do. And I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

"Jean! Look what I've got!"

Jean grinned as the younger boy approached him, unfolding his shirt to show an arrangement of colourful fruit.

"Petit Frère! You nicked all of that?"

"Yup!"

Frère looked proud and Jean shook his head.

"How do you that without 'em catching you?"

He shrugged, looking up at the boy who had adopted him as his brother.

"I learnt from watching you."

"I'm never that risky, Frère! A loaf here, an apple there… I've never tried stealing the entire market at once."

They grinned as their eyes met; crawling into a hole they had created for themselves.

They were both still as skinny and malnourished as they had been upon their first meeting two years ago. Frère, though, was old enough to understand that he would not have survived if it had not been for Jean. By this stage, however, he had become just as apt at thieving as Jean – if not more so. The older boy's awkward and gangly teenage figure prevented him from sneaking around the way he used to as a child and Frère mocked him endlessly about this.

Jean was quick to remind him, however, that his teenage years were not that far off.

The fruit tasted like heaven and the boys greedily finished them off, leaving some tied up in the shirt for Jean's family.

Frère wiped the syrup off his chin, leaning back against the wall, his eyes closed. In his life thus far, this moment had to be the best – a shelter, albeit not warm, fresh food and his best friend.

He opened his eyes as Jean moved, concern shining in them.

"Aren't you afraid that you're going to get lost in the dark?"

Jean smiled at the innocent question and knelt next to Frère, pointing at the sky through the gaping hole in their protective cardboard.

"No. Look there – you see the stars? They give light."

"Are the stars always going to be there?"

"Of course. See you tomorrow, Frère!"

Frère smiled at Jean before turning onto his side, fast asleep after a few counts.

Jean moved slowly in the darkness, the fruit Frère had stolen safely against his chest. His sister would be so happy!

The soft cries of a woman caught his attention and he spun round to notice a rich lady, standing in the arms of a gentleman.

"Oh, Jacques! I hoped this one would survive."

The man's voice was thick with tears as well and Jean heard how he said something about God providing.

"I deserve to be a mother."

An idea slowly started forming in Jean's head. Treacherous as it may seem, perhaps… He stopped for a second, approaching the pair with his hand outstretched.

"Monsieur, Madame… Could you perhaps spare a sou or two?"

Coins clinked in the man's pocket and he stuffed some into Jean's hand without looking at him.

The woman had pressed her face against the man's shoulder, soft sobs still escaping her.

"Is there something I could help with, Monsieur? The Madame seems so sad."

Jacques Javert sighed. He was not able to get rid of the boy without being rude and upsetting his wife. However, his presence and consistent questions seemed to upset her too.

"No, my boy. There's nothing you can do."

"You want a child, don't you?"

The woman looked up at this and Jacques turned beet red.

"You eavesdropping little…"

"No, Jacques… wait. The boy wants to say something."

She turned her big brown eyes to Jean, her eyes pleading.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Madame, I mean no harm. I… I know a boy who needs a home. He's too good for the streets, Madame. Don't even have a name, he's never known anything really."

Jacques shook his head sternly.

"Boy, I don't know whether you think you're helping, but you are not selling your family off to us!"

"He's not my brother, monsieur. Not really. And I… I've been trying to keep him alive, I have, but…"

Jean straightened his head, his lips pursed.

"Monsieur, I don't want him to turn into a thief. He's too smart. And then I thought… If you and the Madame wanted a child, why don't you take him? His mama didn't want him, so you can have him!"

"Jacques… Oh, Jacques, you said God would provide! Maybe He sent this boy here to tell us…"

Jacques shook his head sternly.

"Antoinette, don't. This boy is trying to sell a human being. Do not let your resolve be weak, my wife."

"I'm not selling him, monsieur. He's not mine to sell."

One look at his wife's tearful, pleading eyes convinced him.

"Where is this child, boy?"

Jean jumped as he heard the unmistakable footsteps of policemen.

"Tomorrow night, Monsieur. When the stars come out. At the River Seine!"

He disappeared without another word, rushing home. While his family celebrated about the gracious amount of food they had received, Jean headed to his room, perplexed by the aching in his heart.

He couldn't believe what he had done. He had given his Frère away, he would never see him again if the couple took him.

Jean shook his head firmly.

It was better for Frère. He deserved to have a real home, a family. A life away from the street.

"What if he doesn't come, Jacques?"

Antoinette Javert wringed her hands in front of her, her eyes troubled. Jacques had already started to doubt the deal they had made with the teenager. This could easily be a trick – get them here to rob them, perhaps kill them. Something in the boy's eyes seemed trustworthy though.  
"Look!"

The excitement in Antoinette's voice was clear and he focused his eyes to where she pointed.

Two boys, the one they had met last night and another, half his size, were making their way to the river.

"Oh, Jacques, look at him…"

Excitement seemed to bubble over in her as the two boys neared. They came to a sudden stop in front of them and Jean took a deep breath. His voice sounded muffled as he spoke.

"This is him, Madame. Monsieur."

Antoinette knelt in front of the boy, her eyes glinting with tears.

"Oh… what a beautiful child."

She reached for him, but he retreated. Antoinette shared a confused look with Jean, who blinked furiously, trying to stop the tears from falling.

"Look after him, Madame. He's a good boy, he doesn't… he doesn't understand."

Jacques hesitated. His wife had already lost her heart on the boy and by the sound of the older boy's voice, he had started doubting his decision.

He made the decision instantly, reaching in his pockets for a few notes.

"Take this, boy. Feed your family. Thank you."

Jean nodded at the man and looked at Frère once more before speeding off as fast as he could, heart racing.

"Jean! Jean!"

The boy's cry was shrill and terrified. Jacques wrapped his arms around him before he could run off too, picking him up swiftly.

He looked at Antoinette helplessly as the boy kept wailing and she took a step forward, gathering him in her arms.

She did not seem to notice the grime staining her blue dress as she held him, her hand stroking over his dirty hair.

He stopped wailing after a while, his breath still hitching every now and again.

Jacques pursed his lips.

"Antoinette, this was not a good idea. What if he runs away, it'll break your heart!"

Antoinette shook her head firmly.

"He's just confused, Jacques. He doesn't understand what is going on. Let us find a carriage and take our son home."

Jean kept running until he couldn't bear it anymore, leaning against a wall for support. Tears streamed from his eyes, his breath burning in his chest. The money was crumpled up in his hand.

He had not meant to sell Frère. For a second he considered throwing the money away, but logic told him that the man had given it to him out of gratitude.

He consoled himself with the firm belief that what he had done was right. Had Frère stayed on the street, he would have grown up a thief – a criminal. He could have gone to prison, maybe even died young.

All that was going to be different now.

He would have a home and a family.

He would have a real life.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you for your review JudyBear236!**

**So I know exactly where I'm going with this... It's just a question of getting there... Part 2.**

**DISCLAIMER: I wish I owned Javert.**

CHAPTER 2:

As he sat as his desk, Javert could not remember what had brought on the sudden memories of his childhood.

He was not Jean Valjean's Frère anymore.

He was Francois Javert now. He had never grown particularly attached to the name his adoptive parents had given him. Francois sounded like a stranger to him. He preferred the surname for the respect it earned him.

At 21, Javert had become an assistant to a guard in the Bagne of Toulon.

Today he would take his first step toward becoming a defender of the city.

"Francois, come and dine with us. You are too lost in your thoughts once more, my son."

He looked up, his stubborn heart softening at the sight of Antoinette Javert. The lovely Madame who had given him a home and accepted him as her son without hesitation.

Javert stood up and placed a gentle arm around the petite woman's shoulders. Her small frame reached his chest and he could notice they grey specks forming in her hair. He bet a husband – and now a son – in the police would do that to a woman.

Not that his mother was weak by any means. A rare smile lit up his face.

"I suspect that you just want to keep my company before I head off to the Bagne, mother."

Antoinette laughed.

"Guilty as charged, officer. Indulge me."

He would miss her. Her unlimited love gave him a childhood many could only dream of. He loved his father too of course. Jacques Javert was strict and meticulously fair in everything he did. He had taught his son that there was right and wrong.

No in between.

Often when he felt that he had disappointed his father by doing something wrong, it was his mother who comforted him, assuring him of their everlasting love.

Antoinette looked at her son with obvious pride. She could vividly remember his terrified tears thirteen years ago – the frightened young boy, confused at what was happening to him.

He had grown in to a fine young man.

Though Antoinette would love nothing more than to see him married with a respectable young lady and a house filled with children, she knew that Francois had already given his heart away – to the law.

She put her arm around his waist quietly and Javert smiled. He knew his mother would appreciate the last minutes before he left for his job just as much as he did.

"Prisoner 24600!"

Frederic Beliveau's voice was harsh and a gruff looking man walked towards Javert where he stood next to Frederic. He glared at Javert accusingly as he took the small ration of food from him. Javert's jaw was set as he looked back at the man unapologetically.

How dare he look at him in that way? He was a criminal who had gotten what he deserved.

He moved away slowly and Frederic looked at him with mild disgust as he called the next number.

"Prisoner 24601!"

The man stopped in front of Javert and his breath hitched in his throat as he stared into those vibrant blue eyes.

He would never forget those eyes.

Jean Valjean couldn't move. The man held his food out to him, seemingly irritated by his open stare.

"Frère."

Only Javert heard the soft whisper, his body jerking in a fit of shock.

"Move!"

Frederic pushed the man when he did not move fast enough and Javert watched, frozen, as he fell to the ground.

Jean Valjean.

There was no doubt in his mind. He had heard his voice, a broken whisper. A word he had not heard in ages.

Frère.

Brother.

As Jean Valjean pushed himself up to the ground, his heart was screaming with agony.

He had dreamed about seeing his Frère again – he would be proud of the young man he had become, he would know that he had done the right thing. Frère would understand, be thankful.

In not one scenario of his dreams about meeting Frère again, was he a prisoner and his little brother a guard.

He knew that the man had heart his whisper, saw the recognition in his eyes. Javert, they called him.

When he looked back, Frère had turned away, handing a small portion of food to the next prisoner. When he glanced at Jean, his eyes were cold.

A chill ran down Jean's spine. That man was not his little brother, it was not Frère.

He was Javert.


End file.
